


In Full Command Of Every Plan You Wrecked

by JustSemiotics



Series: The Leonard Cohen Variations [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Based on a Song by Leonard Cohen, Gen, Grief/Mourning, POV Sherlock Holmes, Post Reichenbach, Stream of Consciousness, TW: Severe Health condition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSemiotics/pseuds/JustSemiotics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>„Why her, John?“  </p><p>On Sherlock and John and Mary and loss. Post-Reichenbach and most likely to be AU in a few months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Full Command Of Every Plan You Wrecked

„Why her, John?“

I can´t read anything on your face, there are too many emotions on it, anger colouring all of them in a dark blue, a deep and dangerous sea. Embarrasment, hate, exhaustion, love (but to whom?) flashing over the constant waves like tiny lights.

„Can´t you deduce it?“ You don´t back down, and I can´t reach your eyes. „I´m sure you can. Still able to read me, right? That´s what you are doing. Always have done. Guess that´s why you turned.“

When did I turn, John? Your face opens, the lines become broader, softer. Your eyes wrestle mine down, lock my irises in place, daring me not to choose a coward´s explanation.

So, why John? Surely, you must have known, you learned how to observe these things. Your senses weren´t deceiving you. So, you knew, when you dated her. It wasn´t an accident, a slow discovery over time, a fitful dream, gone by the morning. You knew from the beginning and yet you asked for her hand. Just this week, you painted the banister in the hall a new shade of green, the splashes never left the sole of your shoes. Bought her a necklace, no wait, a brooch, oh that´s clever, I understand that one, that´s something they let you keep, yes, I give you that it is a suprisingly clever gift.

So, you knew. Did you thought you could turn the chain of events, break the laws of physic and the human mind? I wouldn´t put it past you, you always believed in heroes, maybe you hoped it would be another one of your beloved stories. You had the honour of her staying and by that honour had your own restored. Still, you were never delusional. Yes, you believed in the human heart, but you also believed in charts and statistics and documents.

Is it some sort of punishment, a relieve from your sins, for what you´ve believed was your fault? Did you ran into your fate with those blue eyes wide open? You never showed signs of masochistic behaviour, but grief can change a person and I know that you grieved me, it´s natural to assume and so maybe that brought out that streak in your personality. But you are a man of high moral standards and you would never utilize another human being (even subconciously) to be an end to your means, so no.

I don´t know, John, and your eyes are still capturing mine and now your eyelashes start to flutter and you look away, disappointed.

„Shouldn´t have bothered. The answer is simple, really: I hadn´t a clue wether you would want a tombstone and if you´d like your name on it. And if you´d like dates or just a plain stone or no stone at all. I weighed the pros and cons and discussed with Mrs H and didn´t sleep for a week.“

„It was an elegant stone, John. I rather liked it.“

The sea is nearly overflowing now, reaching your eyes, the tiny muscles in your fist, clenching and undclenching. You don´t need to know how often I came there to watch my grave you made for me.

„That´s not the point.“

The sea is gone, the tide rolling back, leaving shatterd seashells behind, sorrow and doubt, cracking and breaking. You look up to me again and your voice is low and soft.

„It will be a plain wooden cross under a tree. Bit esoteric if you ask me, but they lived near the woods in her childhood and she had that secret place under a birch, so I guess it´s ok. When it ends, I will be long prepared for this to happen. At the funeral I´ll look at the casket and know that I said goodbye to her and I´ll bring my hand to my beret and smile because that´s what I was asked to do.“

Your eyes light up and a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, pleasant memory, you talked about that and you like being adressed as a soldier, always did, I´m slightly suprised (am I?) that I wasn´t the only one to figure this out. Your eyes flicker down for a second, embarrasment, admission of sentiment most likely next.

„And I love her. She laughs and it sounds like exquisite music. Only had that kind of laugh with you before. When you fell on the pavement, Sherlock, I was the one who shattered into a thousand little pieces. I won´t break this time. It´s much more gentle this way.“

„John, neither sentimental exclamations nor rude imaginery of the laws of gravity will make your decision less ridiculous!“

I´m aware of my raised voice the cold stare the wiping hands nearly touching your forehead. And the sea is coming back again, a forceful tide in a man standing stock-still. Your eyes light up like the deep black, a storm over the ocean and I get lost in them and I start to hear you mid-shout:

„I lost you without a warning, Sherlock, and it broke me! It completely, sodding broke me! And you can´t just fucking expect me to glue the pieces together! And I love her and I vowed never to be broken like this and that Sherlock, that is why I married her, all the time full-bloody-well knowing That. She. Is. Dying!“

And I´m bewildered by your meaning and I thought I had it deciphered and I can´t break this code. And I wonder if Mary knows and why the air doesn´t reach my lungs (impropable) and the sea is back and I want to drown in it and I´m not allowed to want this and tiny speckles of dust dance around the room and each fleck carries a part of me and this time it doesn´t feel like flying and I turn and the banister is the wrong shade of green and in four, no five months time you will stand firmly at the window biding Mary farewell. And suddenly the night has grown colder and I´m leaving and I´m the one who´s lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song "Alexandra Leaving" by Leonard Cohen, who based the song on the poem "The gods forsaken Anthony" by C. Cavafy. Both make me cry more often than not. 
> 
> The ficlet is part of the Leonard Cohen Variations, but can be read as a stand alone.


End file.
